Page 67 of A Valiant Prince

“Dr. Lasson, any change?” King Michael asks.

The doctor shakes his head. “We’re monitoring everything, Your Majesty. There has been no change in vitals over the past several hours. I would say that she’s stabilized for now. However, we will have her latest bloodwork back later. We didn’t see any improvements in organ function after the last round of testing,” he states.

King Michael nods his head. “Thank you, doctor,” he says. I hang back in the hallway as King Michael, Anna, Auggie, and Chris walk in a room. I can see Hans sitting in a chair before the door shuts, leaving my father, Sten, and me standing in the hallway.

“Let’s give them a minute with her,” my father says. I nod.

It doesn’t hit me fully that I’m standing next to my uncle, a potential criminal, until I turn to see him looking at me.

“You OK?” he asks me.

I have trouble finding the words. “I-I…yep, I’m fine,” I stammer as I take a seat next to my father, putting much-needed distance between Sten and me.

“How are your grandparents?” my father asks.

I shrug. “Fine,” I say.

“I’m sure it was nice to see them,” he says. I nod. I’m not much for talking right now, and this small talk bullshit in front of Sten is grating on my nerves.

Sten’s phone rings. “Sorry, I have to take this. It’s about a charity function I’m supposed to be at next week,” he says as he answers his phone and walks down the hall.

My father looks at me. “You look like you could use a walk,” he says as he stands. “Come on.” He waves a hand. The part of me that can be a dick wants to tell him to go walk by himself since he’s so good at being alone, but something else in me makes me stand and follow him. Maybe, somewhere deep down, I yearn to know my father. I yearn to have a parent again.

We walk in silence. I don’t know where he’s taking me. His bodyguard follows us, but my father doesn’t seem to notice. Hendrick is also behind us, but he gives us a wide berth, following behind my father’s bodyguard. I guess when you always have security with you, you become oblivious to it.

My father’s clearly been here before because he meanders the hallways like he owns the place, and eventually, he pushes open a door that leads to a small garden on the rooftop. It has a path around it, some trees in planters and flowers and a few benches. There’s no one up here as it’s a bit cold and breezy but the fresh air feels good on my skin.

“Why didn’t you tell me that my mother was a spy?” I ask him, breaking the silence.

He comes to an abrupt stop, and in my peripheral vision, I can see his security guard stop as well, keeping a good twenty paces behind us.

“Who told you that?” he asks, but then I see a look of recognition on his face. “Jack,” he states dryly.

I nod. “Yes, he told me everything,” I reply.

“I see,” my father says tersely. Clearly, he didn’t want me to know.

“Why would you keep that from me? I’m not a child you have to protect. I’m an adult. I deserve to know the truth,” I say to him.

My father sighs. “I know you are an adult. I’m very aware of that,” he says, his voice tinged with sadness, so much so, it’s hard to stay mad at him. He starts walking again, and I follow him.

Now it’s my turn to sigh. “Listen…I…” I trail off before I decide to say “fuck it,” and lay it all on the line. “I want to get to know you. I do. I have so many questions. And now that I know what my mother was doing for all those years, I have so many more questions. But please, no more lies and no more secrets. If you can promise me that, then I will promise to give a relationship between us a chance.”

My father stops walking again. “I would very much like that, Logan. I don’t have all the answers. Hell, Jack probably knows more than I do about certain parts of your mother’s life, but I won’t keep anything from you…you deserve to know the truth, no matter how much I want to protect you,” he says, turning toward me.

“That’s all I want…the truth,” I say to him. He motions to a nearby bench and we sit.

“I’m not sure where to begin,” he says.

“How about at the beginning?” I suggest as I turn and the locket falls out of my pocket. I pick it up, going to stuff it back inside when my father reaches out and snatches it from my hand.

“Where did you get this?” he asks, his eyes wide.

“It was with my mother’s belongings,” I say to him.

A sad smile emerges on his face. “I had this made for her,” he says, looking up at me.

“You did?” I ask.

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